


Silver Bells (or How to piss off a god while wearing reindeer antlers)

by Hushabye_my_darling



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel
Genre: Christmas, Coffee, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Snow, death by turkey sandwich, turkey sandwich, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 15:48:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8806882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hushabye_my_darling/pseuds/Hushabye_my_darling
Summary: Loki has been exiled to Midgard on Christmas Eve. George has a hangover. Coffee is consumed, snow falls and antlers are worn. Smut ensues.





	

The dulcet tones of Bing Crosby crooning _White Christmas_ penetrated the apparently randomly tossed blankets in the corner of the bedroom. A muffled groan emanated from beneath the pile which rose slightly before cascading, layer by layer, onto the timber floor. A bare leg slid out from under the last blanket, the big toe pausing just above the floorboards. A tentative touch to the freezing surface resulted in a hasty retreat back under the cover.

Before Bing could finish, the announcer wished everyone a cheery “ _Good morning_ ” and launched into the weather report.

“… _expect medium to heavy snowfalls. Well, it looks like we’re going to have our White Christmas after all, folks_.”

The pile swore.

“Fuck-a-doodle-do.”

 

  
“QUAIL BEFORE ME, MORTAL!”

“Fuck off, asshole,” muttered George, as she pushed her way past the towering figure and slammed back the door to the café. “Coffee, Meg. Need coffee. Lots of coffee.”

George stalked past the regular crowd, stopping at a corner table and glaring at the occupant.

“You’re in my chair.”

“Play nice now, George,” called Meg. “You get more bees with honey.”

“Oh. Right.”

George leaned in towards the squirming patron.

“Where would you like me to shove the honey?”

“Not exactly what I meant,” sighed Meg.

Sagging into the now vacated chair, George leaned her head back against the wall, dozing briefly until the aroma of freshly brewed coffee signalled the arrival of her double-shot espresso. Eyes firmly shut, George felt her way to the cup, raising it reverently to her lips. With each sip her features relaxed a little more and by the bottom of the second cup, she managed a tight smile at the approaching barista.

“Welcome back,” chuckled Meg as she placed a third steaming cup on the table. “Rough night?”

“What kind of fucking idiot thinks shots of tequila with a pineapple juice and vodka chaser is a good idea?” groaned George.

“I wonder,” Meg mumbled to herself before cheerily saying that it actually sounded pretty nice.

“Not after the fifth one decides to make an encore appearance all over your ex mother-in-law’s Strawberry Torte. It is…was...her favourite dessert.”

George rubbed a hand over her tired eyes.

“Actually…fuck it. Serves the old bitch right. Payback for all those years of not-so-subtle digs about my hair, and my clothes..my job...my family…my…Jesus, fucking old cow.”

“Oh, George!” sighed Meg.

“Wait! Best part. I was there to play nice in front of Mama and dear old Dad because they went guarantors for that disaster that was my ex’s business and of which I am the proud owner of half the debt. Anyway, we were all being good sports, “all adults here, dontchaknow”, when there’s this banging on the back door. It’s the neighbour and his sixteen-year-old daughter. You know Amethyst Biggs?”

Meg nodded.

“Well, apparently, she’s pregnant. Guess who the daddy is? Nearly fell off my fucking chair. I thought the women he screwed were at _least_ 18\. Well, ex-Mama calmed things down while I threw back my first two rounds of tequila. They were agreeing to paternity testing when I had my third and had decided that Kevin is a nice name for a boy when I poured my fourth. I think they were singing “Kumbaya” when I sank my fifth, though I was distracted by the way the kid’s braces glistened every time she giggled and gazed adoringly at my ex-bastard. I may have raised my glass and said “Who’s your daddy” while laughing hysterically. Anyway, after they cleaned up the table, Mama shoved me in a cab and that’s the last thing I remember.”

Meg looked sympathetically at her friend.

“Never give up hope, George. Somewhere out there is the love of your life.”

“Poor bastard. Right now I would settle for a bloody good shag.”

Meg watched her friend walk dejectedly out the door.

A light snow began to fall.

 

  
_Earlier..._

  
Loki was cursing under his breath.

“As if Midgard were not dull enough, you have abandoned me in the middle of the most boring village on the planet. For this, dear brother, I promise you will pay dearly.”

The inhabitants scurried past him, their minds occupied with last minute purchases as they glanced with mild concern at the clouds approaching from the north. Occasionally, one would run into him and register brief surprise at his appearance before dismissing him from their mind and carrying on down the grey streets.

Their disinterest was starting to bother him. He was, after all, a god.

Looking in the window of a nearby purveyor of goods, Loki studied the scene before him. Figures jerked in a repetitive motion, barely visible wires lifting and lowering wooden limbs and objects. Slender creatures clothed in green tunics and sporting strangely pointed ears engaged in what appeared to be mundane, though, occasionally, dangerous activities. One wooden figure was suspended by its leg above a cauldron. A rope looped about the leg stretched over a beam and was attached at the other end to the bridle of a strange animal with branching horns. Each time the animal raised its head, the unfortunate creature at the other end of the rope would disappear into the pot. To the right of the antlered beast, an obese mortal sporting a grey beard and dressed completely in red (a badly stitched label on the pocket identified him as “Santa”) stood obliviously with his back to the drama surveying a long list of names. Peering more closely, Loki noticed a mark beside each name signifying the bearer as either “naughty” or “nice”.

“Hmm.”

Loki grinned wickedly. A green flame leapt from his fingers and licked its way over each object.

“That is appalling,” exclaimed a woman behind him.

Loki nodded with satisfaction.

In the window, Santa’s face held an expression of horror. The rope was now looped about the arm of the previously imperiled pointy-eared creature and with each tug, the sharp end of one branched horn disappeared some considerable way into the back of Santa’s breeches.

Strolling off, Loki looked for some other means of amusing himself.

In the town square, a large tree adorned with tinsel and glass globes defied the laws of nature and seemed to grow from the stone paving. To one side, a queue of impatient and intent adults with young children stretched from an elaborately decorated sleigh. It was currently occupied by a mortal version of the red-suited figure from the window. Irritatingly cheerful music issued from a device attached to a pole. Loki considered what mischief he could cause, but decided that the young mortals were already experiencing high enough levels of excitement and terror. “ _Ho Ho Ho, and what would YOU like for Christmas?_ ”

The atmosphere of frantic, somewhat forced, goodwill, and the apparent lack of awe at his presence, rankled.

As he turned, a creature with a mass of wild brown hair spilling over the turned up collar of a distressingly purple and orange jacket barrelled into him. A faint smell of fruit assailed his nostrils. It was the final straw.

“QUAIL BEFORE ME, MORTAL!”

“Fuck off, asshole,” the creature muttered before disappearing through a nearby door.

Loki gritted his teeth. He would destroy every damn one of them. Clenching and unclenching his fists, he took a deep breath. As the door swung shut, the aroma of coffee hit him like a blow from his brother’s precious mjolnir. He spun towards the café and plunged inside.

The owner of the purple and orange jacket was harassing the occupant of a chair.

“Take a seat and I’ll be with you in a minute,” said a disembodied voice from behind a steaming metal device.

Settling himself at a nearby table, Loki glared towards the corner of the café. The jacket’s owner had succeeded in procuring the seat. As they leaned back against the wall, he was surprised to see that it belonged to a female. Her face was pale, emphasising the dark shadows beneath her long lashes. A cup was placed in front of her and she drank without opening her eyes.

The server strolled over to his table.

“Coffee, love?”

Loki frowned. The endearment seemed unnecessary.

“Yes. Bring me coffee.”

Loki continued to stare intently at the reclining woman.

“Espresso, latte, cappuccino, macchiato, mocha or long black?”

Loki dragged his eyes away from studying the woman.

“What?”

“What sort of coffee do you want, love?”

“Uh.” Loki glanced around him. A man to his left was sipping from a large mug. “Whatever that mortal is consuming.”

“Latte then. Whole, low-fat, skim or soy?”

Loki turned an irritated face towards her.

“We’ll go with whole, shall we?” she grinned and headed back behind the counter. As cosplay costumes went, thought Meg, it was pretty impressive. He was certainly determined to stay in character.

Loki threw an arm over the back of his chair, returning his gaze to the figure in the corner. She was younger than he had first thought. Freckles were randomly sprinkled across her nose and cheeks. Her mouth was slightly open and as he watched, a pink tongue darted out and traced slowly around full lips. It was replaced by teeth that nibbled gently at the lower lip. Loki felt an unexpected tightening in his groin.

A second cup was lifted to those lips and Loki watched, fascinated. He thought he heard a contented rumble from her chest as the corners of her mouth tilted slightly upward.

“Here you go, love.”

Meg placed a large, steaming mug in front of him.

Loki ignored her, his long fingers reaching up to stroke his chin before resting on his mouth. Loki tapped his lips thoughtfully.

Another rumble and lashes slowly lifted to reveal warm brown eyes. A quick smile flashed across her face as the serving wench approached her with a third cup. She started to speak and Loki found himself leaning forward to hear the conversation. Her voice was husky and low.

Loki took a distracted sip of his drink. Hot and bitter, but not unpleasant. A slow grin spread across his face.

As the woman left, Loki rose and started to follow.

“Are you going to pay for that coffee?" called Meg.

“No.”

“Of course not,” sighed Meg.

Loki strode purposefully out through the still swinging door.

Outside, he paused, a frown forming on his brow. Turning, he stepped back into the café.

“What is a “shag”?”

 

  
An icy blast greeted George as she pushed open the café door and headed down the street. Snow dropped lightly onto the pavement and slowly melted, forming a dirty sludge.

“Fuck a duck,” growled George, sliding her hand into a pocket and cringing at the muffled sound of tiny bells. Counting silently to ten, she pulled out a wool and felt beanie and stared at it balefully.

“Frost-bitten ears or abject humiliation. Hmmm.”

A sparrow landed on a nearby ledge and chirped at her.

George gave it a quick look, muttering "Give me a minute, I’m thinking.”

Loki, approaching her silently from behind, paused.

“Were you addressing me?” he asked.

“No,” said George, not turning around.

Shoving the offending item on her head she stomped off without looking back.

 

  
Loki followed at a safe distance. The streets were crowded with people rushing to get home ahead of the weather. Despite the noise and bustle around him, he would have struggled to lose her. The bright red article on her head sported horns mimicking those he had seen earlier on the beast in the window. At the tips, small bells glistened in the dulling light. He grinned at the sound they made as she walked.

“Nice beanie, George,” said a solid young man. “Very, um, festive.”

“Just getting into the Christmas spirit,” the woman shot back at him, muttering “preferably poured into a large glass.”

Catching his eye, Loki gave the man a death stare, causing him to hurry off.

The woman strode on, making a sharp turn down a side street.

Children laughed and squealed about him, vehicles roared and rumbled. Loki picked up his pace as he realised what was missing from the cacophony. There was a definite absence of bells.

As he rounded the corner, a small hand holding a pink tube was shoved in his face.

“This is mace, fucker. Back off.”

 

  
“Well, that didn’t go quite how I planned.”

“Really?” a voice dripping with sarcasm filtered through the bathroom door.

“Shut up and keep rinsing your eyes under the shower.”

So. Good plan. Threaten the large, leather-clad man with a bottle of lily-of-the-valley pretending it’s mace, step on an iced strip of pavement and start a slow slide backwards whilst simultaneously discharging fragrance into his eyes. Grab for the closest large object in an attempt to stay upright and instead pull said object, being the large, leather-clad man, down on top of you.

And now she was safe and sound inside her flat with her stalker (presumably) naked and kneeling under her vertically-challenged shower.

George rubbed her bruised ribs. He was surprisingly heavy for someone so slender.

“I’ll make us a snack,” called George through the closed door.

Thumping the wall beside the thermostat, George made her way to the kitchen.

Through the window, the small terrace was starting to resemble a winter wonderland, provided your wonderland included a discarded chip packet, a cheap plastic table setting and a broken pot containing a half-dead spruce.

George shivered and started throwing together a pile of sandwiches. Down the hallway, she heard the shower shut off. Grabbing two mismatched mugs, she poured coffee and was placing everything randomly on a tray when she heard steps behind her. Turning her head, she almost flipped the tray onto the floor.

“Holy fuck.”

He was leaning against the door with arms crossed over his bare chest. The top button of his leather trousers was undone exposing a light trail of hair leading down…

George swallowed and turned back to the tray.

“It’s fucking freezing. You should, um, put a, you know, shirt on or something.”

Loki pushed himself off the frame.

“I don’t feel the cold. In fact…”

George heard slow steps behind her.

“…I feel quite warm.”

George spun around quickly, coffee sloshing over the sides of the cups as she thrust the tray at him.

“Here, you carry this into the lounge room.”

She stepped around him and walked quickly through the door.

Loki pursed his lips and followed.

 

  
The wind picked up, rattling the windows.

Leaning back on his seat, Loki rocked abruptly to one side, extracting a small black box from beneath him.

“Oh shit, the tv remote. Pass it here.”

They sat in silence, the roof creaking as the cold wind thrust its way under the eaves.

George cleared her throat.

“I’m George, by the way.”

She stretched out a hand to the silent occupant of the other chair.

Loki looked at it bemusedly and raised an eyebrow.

Retracting her hand, George sat back and studied the man sitting opposite her. He was tall...very tall. Long, dark hair extended past broad shoulders. He was arrogantly good-looking with a strong nose and thin lips. Slender but well-muscled. Big, strong thighs.

 _Fuck, George,_ she thought, _it's been too long since you had anything_ **not** _powered by a battery between your legs_.

“Nice costume you’re…you were wearing. I didn’t know there was a convention on around here.”

Green eyes studied her intently.

"What is this place called?" he asked.

“Fuck. You _are_ lost. Welcome to Gordonsville. Named after someone called Gordon, apparently. When I first moved here, I thought it was, like, Pleasantville. You know, pre- Toby and Reese version. Very retro. Everyone still living in the fifties. Soon found out it was full of fucking deviates.”

George bit into a sandwich.

“Eat,” she said encouragingly with her mouth full. “It’s leftover turkey.”

Loki considered the slab of meat George had roughly slapped between two slices of slightly stale bread.  
  
“What does one do for amusement here?”

George almost choked on her sandwich as she gave a humourless laugh.

“Amusement? Well, let me see. On Thursdays, there’s cow-tipping at the Sherman Ranch. Bingo with the residents of the Wendy Butler Home for the Aged and Infirm every second Tuesday. Oh, and once a year, we have this huge festival to celebrate the turnip harvest. Fun times.”

“You could leave.”

George looked at him with a wry smile on her lips.

“Yeah look, my ass-wipe ex has me up to my eyeballs in debt and you kind of need money to make that sort of a move. I can only afford to live here because the landlady felt sorry for me and also because she had trouble renting the flat out after the last tenant kicked the bucket in the kitchen—choked on a turkey sandwich, funnily enough.”

Loki leaned forward.

“Loki.”

“Huh?” said George.

“I am Loki.”

“Oh. OK,” said George, throwing the last bit of crust into her mouth. “Nice to meet you, Loki.”

He leaned back and ran his hand absently over his chest, his eyes locked intently on her. She was unlike anyone he had ever met. Brash yet vulnerable. Plain, yet possessing a vitality that he found intensely stimulating. He wondered what else lay beneath the surface.

“Sorry about the heating,” apologised George. “It’s kind of sporadic, though it feels pretty warm in here at the moment.”

“Perhaps you should remove your jacket?”

"Oh," shrugged George. “I guess."

Sliding the jacket off her shoulders, she groaned inwardly when she remembered what she was wearing underneath.

“Look. When I left my cheating ex, I was in a bit of a hurry. All my winter gear was packed up in a box in the attic and I just didn’t feel like going back to get it, so I bought a few things from the local charity shop.”

Above her black tights, George’s shirt displayed the letter “I” followed by a heart symbol, both centred above an amusing caricature of a rooster with the words “I Love Cock” printed in bold letters underneath in case the message was too subtle.

“Yeah, pickings were slim.”

She pointed at the red beanie with its cheery antlers that she had flung carelessly on the floor.

"They only had a choice of two of those. The other one was Princess Leia and Star Wars just isn’t my thing.”

“I also wear horned headwear, on occasion,” said Loki with a wry smile. “Without the bells, of course.”

With the jacket removed, she was a lot smaller than expected. Curves and soft flesh with a narrow waist. Loki appraised her openly, his eyes travelling slowly down from her soft lips to the curve of her calf before travelling back up to settle on her breasts.

Picking up her cup, George took a large gulp of coffee, trying not to watch the narrow fingers stroking sensuously over ribs and down to tight abs. She felt herself getting wet and pressed her thighs together against the ache between her legs.

Nervously licking her lips, George wiped her sweaty palms on the fabric of her tights. Her skin prickled and the hairs on her arms raised suddenly. The room shimmered and she found herself sitting on a velvet-covered settee amongst high ferns and lilies. Looking down, she realised that her tights and shirt had been replaced by a satin slip.

“What the fuck did you put in my coffee?”

He moved stealthily, sleek muscles rippling under his taut skin. Before she had time to react he was kneeling in front of her, his long fingers curling around her thighs and pulling her slowly towards him.

"I could smell your juices from across the room," he growled huskily, one hand sliding under the hem of her slip.

“Oh God,” groaned George as another gush of juices soaked her panties.

“Oh yes!” grinned Loki as he parted her thighs and ran a thumb over her mound, pressing into her warmth. “Mmmm. You are wet for me, aren’t you.”

Turning her slightly, he pushed her back along the settee, her legs off to the side. Lifting one thigh over his shoulder he pressed his face into the moist fabric, inhaling as he did so.

“You smell delightful. Now, how do you taste?”

He nuzzled her cunt and ran his tongue up the outside of her panties.

“Mmmm.”

Pushing aside the fabric, he dipped his tongue into her folds, lapping hungrily at the juices. Long licks followed by slow swirls had George writhing. Pulling back slowly, Loki slipped the panties down her thighs and flung them across the room. Pressing her legs wider, he ran his nose up the crease and resumed the assault with his tongue. One finger slipped slowly inside her, twisting gently before withdrawing. As it plunged back inside, Loki placed his mouth over her mound, running his tongue over her pubic bone before circling back down to lick across her clit. The single digit was replaced by a second and then a third. George flinched as her body stretched to accommodate the width, but the firm strokes of Loki’s tongue and the sensation as his fingers curled inside her soon had her loose and dripping obscenely on to the red velvet.

George felt an orgasm building and pressed down hard as Loki sucked on her clit. Just as she was about to tip over the edge, he withdrew, running his tongue down one thigh as his hand moved around to squeeze the flesh of her ass. His other hand stroked up her calf, his touch firm but gentle. Shifting his attention to her other thigh, he moved languidly, his tongue drawing slow, lazy circles. Sliding his hand up to her stomach, he stroked slowly over the soft flesh, trailing upwards to cup one swollen breast. George groaned as he flicked a nipple.

Gripping the bottom of the slip, Loki slid it slowly up George’s body and over her head. Pulling back, he allowed his eyes to wander over her exposed curves, his hands soon following, touching every inch of bare skin and causing George to arch off the bed as she desperately sought the feel of his body in hers.

Loki dropped to his knees again, licking hungrily at her cunt before sliding his tongue up to her navel. He ran his tongue around the indentation then moved up to lick the underside of her breast. His hand cupped and caressed her breast as he took one rosy nipple between his teeth, tugging gently. George groaned. Loki slipped a hand between her legs, working two fingers into her and pressing down on her clit. As he pumped with his fingers, he curled and stroked, finding the spot where she tensed and teasing it with each pass. Pumping faster, he felt her tighten around his fingers and he swirled his tongue around her nipple, biting down and sending her over the edge.

Placing soothing kisses across her breast, he moved his fingers over her sensitive folds, drawing out the orgasm. Lifting his head, he looked up at her. Her head was pressed back against the cushions, her eyes closed and her lips parted. Sensing his scrutiny, she opened her eyes, meeting his gaze with a lecherous grin.

“You know, I think one of us is wearing too many clothes.”

Loki permitted her to push him on to his back. George carefully undid the remaining buttons on his breeches, allowing a large, purple cock to spring free.

“Holy fuck.”

Licking her lips, she dragged his pants down to his ankles before sliding back up his long legs. Reaching out she wrapped her hand around his girth and gave a gentle squeeze.

Loki groaned.

George bent down and touched her tongue to the tip, licking off the precum and then swirling her tongue around the head. Sliding her lips down to the base, she cupped his balls, drawing one into her mouth and running her tongue over the wrinkled surface before releasing it with a pop and suckling at the other. She slid a finger down the ridge to the puckered hole and ran her finger around the rim. Licking up to the top of his cock again, she relaxed her throat and jaw and took as much of him as she could into her mouth. She began a slow rhythm, allowing her tongue to curve over the head before taking him into her mouth until he hit the back of her throat. With her hands she massaged his balls and traced down the ridge, making slow circles with her thumb between his cheeks while stroking the base of his shaft. Loki’s breath quickened and George worked him faster feeling his balls tighten. With a moan he thrust upward, spilling his seed down the back of her throat. She swallowed the cum, licking his cock clean before kissing the tip and climbing up his chest to curl on top of him.

They lay together, dozing as the wind howled.

 

  
George felt long fingers stroking down her back and over her ass. A hard ridge against her thigh set her juices flowing again. Straddling him she slowly stroked his cock while watching his face. Loki lay back with his hands behind his head.

“Touch yourself for me.”

“What, like this?” smiled George, lifting herself slightly and slipping her fingers into her moist centre. She continued to pump his cock, one hand sliding up and down the hard shaft while her other slid over her clit. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back, slipping a finger into her cunt then back around the swollen nub.

“Oh, fuck that feels good,” she groaned as she plunged two fingers into her dripping folds, “but I know what will feel better.”

She positioned his shaft at her entrance and slowly sank down until she was almost at the base. Taking a moment to adjust to his girth, she opened her eyes at the sound of a chuckle.

“I had not anticipated my exile to be quite so pleasurable.”

“Well, fuck. Happy to oblige,” said George, lifting herself slowly back up to the tip before sinking down again. Reaching around behind her, she stroked his balls, forcing a groan from the god beneath her.

Loki sat up, bending down to suckle on George’s breast.

“Ooh. Do that again,” begged George.

Loki repeated the action, at the same time slipping his hand down to flick George’s clit. The muscles in George’s womb squeezed his shaft in response and Loki almost came at the look of pure ecstasy on her face.

Lifting her off his engorged cock, Loki turned her around and bent her over. Rubbing his shaft across her folds, he waited for her to beg before he plunged inside. Drawing out slowly he waited again at her entrance until she pushed back against him, her need sending a trickle of juices down her thighs. Loki plunged in again, this time holding himself inside her while she milked him. Reaching around he began slow circles around her clit, flicking it occasionally as he worked himself in and out. He felt his stomach start to tighten at the same time George threw her head back and screamed, her orgasm sending him to his release as he spilled into her.

 

  
“ _I’m dreaming of a white Christmas—_ ”

George threw a pillow at the radio, and dragged the blanket back over her head.

Sighing she wriggled back against the hard body beside her. A long arm wrapped around her waist and George smiled.

Above the rooftops, bells jingled softly.

_Ho Ho Ho_

 

 


End file.
